"Yeah, your mojo witchraft, honey, it's working on me" (Bang by Armchair Cynics)


It was very well known that Demo loved the mysterious, the freaky, the unusual.

And Pyro was all of that and more.

There were a few things which kept him at a prudent distance—you know, the tendency of this lad to burn people alive, use their intestines to jump rope, do tea parties with their guts. But it was a powerful attraction he could barely fight. All those displays of brutality and complete disregard for human life only brought him more of a macabre interest. An immense curiosity. Because Pyro was the freakiest of men, the most unusual person he had ever met in his life (and he had seen a lot!), and no one could expect him to have that lad under the same roof and not feel a thing.

The demon. The monster. When he was a child, he wasn't scared by stories about creatures like those, but wanted desperately to encounter them, see them closely, keep them for himself. In a way, that was what he wanted from Pyro.

He was probably mad, yes.

He slowly approached. When Pyro was destroying someone, he was a good teammate. They both were interested in chemicals and how to do the greatest harm to the enemy with them—that brought them close, and gave Demoman the chance to approach his teammate and spend some time alone with him. Ask questions the other never replied to. The quiet type, a well-trained puppy at times. Tell him what to do and he will do it without questioning or opening his darned mouth.

That day, Demo offered him a sip from his usual drink, and, of course, Pyro couldn't refuse, as much as he found the color a little suspicious.

"I wouldn't give you something bad, mate." Demo said, and that finally convinced Pyro.

She lifted his mask a little bit, barely showing any skin, and started slurping. She didn't like the flavor at first. It felt like lava was running down her throat and left a nasty taste on her mouth. But Demoman insisted that the next sips would taste better and it turned out he was right. The more she drank, the better that diabolical brew tasted..., and the weirder Pyroland turned.

The thing with getting drunk is that you lose self-control. Demoman couldn't hold his curiosity any longer.

"Say, man...We've known each other for...what? Six years? And I've got no idea of...of what...Come ooon, tell me, what's under the suit?"

In other circumstances, Pyro, following his teammates' instructions, would have stolen the bottle from his hands and made him life down, even though she wasn't very sure of what was so wrong about Demo singing and snickering and what the bottle had to do with all of that. But she was a little bit dizzy as well and felt in no condition to be alarmed by the Scot's nasty breath or his hands on her suit.

"I'm sure you're a...green...alien...with bulging eyes..."

She wasn't even bothered by his eagerness to remove her suit. He was practically over her, clumsily looking for the zipper. Pyro giggled and, instead of feeling offended, lied on her back to make the search a bit easier.

It took Demoman a little long to find the aperture, Pyo had to give him a hand.

When he found what was underneath, Demo went quiet, serious, somewhere between surprise and nausea.

Pyro interpreted this reaction that he didn't like what he saw.

He touched the breasts, as if he needed to convince himself that they were real and not his imagination or a fake accessory. Anyone else would have slapped him, but she let him do. It was evident that he was coming to terms with the fact that the monster he always had on his mind was a she.

He removed the mask next. Her hair, soaked in sweat, matted, covered her shoulders. She did have a bit bulging eyes, making her look like what everyone suspected she was: a madwoman, but, again, nothing out of this world.

Pyro thought for a second that he didn't like her anymore, now that a good part of the mystery was gone. No more talking about gasoline and gunpowder, no more drinking strange stuff, no more magical swords...

She was confused when Demoman suddenly snickered.

"This is much, much better than an alien..."

He was still on her, crushing her, but Pyro didn't mind. The only thing she wanted was to remove the suit, since the alcohol increasing her body temperature was making it too hot in there to keep wearing it. She was going to, but Demo sunk his head between her breasts and she wrapped her arms around him, chuckling.

She liked this beverage which made people laugh and Demo like her more than usual; which made like everything around them was blurry and only they existed for each other; which erased all doubts and filters.

Curiosity killed the cat, Demoman should have known. The monster sank her fangs into his flesh, making him bleed, and ate him up. And Demo gladly let her do.